


cuddling 101

by lauraxtennant



Series: Ten/Rose Collection 2016 [5]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cuddling, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-04-27
Packaged: 2018-06-04 22:37:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6678121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lauraxtennant/pseuds/lauraxtennant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are three good reasons for cuddling Rose Tyler, as far as the Doctor can see.</p><p>(There are subcategories branching off from those reasons, of course, which in total add up to around five hundred and forty four. But primarily there are three key occasions which require the optimal response of a Rose Tyler embrace.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	cuddling 101

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to curiositykilledtheslug on tumblr for the prompt of 'doctor/rose cuddling' :)

There are three good reasons for cuddling Rose Tyler, as far as the Doctor can see.

(There are subcategories branching off from those reasons, of course, which in total add up to around five hundred and forty four. But primarily there are three key occasions which require the optimal response of a Rose Tyler embrace.)

i. Comfort

One of the disadvantages of being a Time Lord is that he tends not to forget very much. This is great when it comes to remembering things like faces, fun times he’s had with friends, and where to find the best chips in the universe, but not so good regarding memories he wishes he could erase. Be they embarrassing, painful, or frightening.

All this means that he’s often plagued by nightmares. It’s not something he likes acknowledging, particularly; it makes him feel far too vulnerable and therefore uncomfortable. But it happens, and it makes him grumpy, and then, more often than not, it results in Rose asking him what’s got his knickers in a twist this morning.

The decision to open up to her about it last year, after several months of her travelling with him, was one of his most impulsive but fantastic ideas to date. Immediately, he got a cuddle out of it, and then some reassuring words, and then, she made him promise to come wake her if he ever experiences an especially harrowing dream. 

He admits, now, that he was dubious about this at first; Rose wasn’t - and isn’t - the most amiable person when someone interrupts her sleeping. Several times, he’s impatiently bounded into her room of a morning and received a pillow thrown to his head in response.

She insisted, though, that it would be different if he were upset, and to her greatest credit as his best friend in the universe, she’s kept her word. Granted, there have only been two occasions on which he’s felt brave enough to stumble sleepily into her room in the middle of the night, in search of comfort. She might not be quite so forgiving if it becomes a habit. But both times, she’s flung back the duvet and tugged him into bed with her, snuggling up to him as he sighs in relief.

It’s staring at his book tonight, not taking in the words on the page, where he muses on this. Rose is so giving with her affection, so happy to comfort, that he feels at a bit of a loss in terms of what he can provide her with in return. They’ve had a difficult few days, seen some frankly quite haunting scenes of devastation, in a war-torn land they couldn’t offer much help to. He knows it always gets to her, when fixed points prevent them from helping as much as they wish.

Perhaps it’s her who needs him, tonight - or, more likely, that they both need one another. He hasn’t even bothered trying to sleep, instead coming here to the library after seeing Rose off to bed, so maybe she’s struggling to put it all behind her, too.

Though he isn’t sure that him offering her a cuddle would sufficiently cheer her up, it’s worth a chance, so he sets aside his book and stands, stretching tired muscles.

A few minutes later, he knocks on her door.

“Rose?” He peeks inside.

She isn’t in her bedroom, and her bathroom door is open with no light on inside, so she’s not there either. Frowning in concern, he decides to try the galley. It wouldn’t be the first time Rose pops in there for a midnight snack. But she’s nowhere to be found.

They finally bump into each other in the corridor to the console room.

“Oh! There you are,” Rose says, a hand flying to her chest as he accidentally makes her jump.

“You were looking for me?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes flutter downwards, and she nibbles at her bottom lip. “I, um. I needed to talk to you.”

“Oh?”

Rose gives him a shy smile. “Couldn’t sleep. Came to find you so that you could take my mind off, um, everything that happened. Those people - ” A small crease appears between her brows.

“I was looking for you, too,” he admits, slipping his hand into hers. “Come on.”

As he tugs her along the corridor, she looks up at him curiously. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see in a sec.”

She raises her eyebrows and bumps her shoulder against his. “Are you taking me to your bedroom, Doctor?”

He chuckles at her teasing but shakes his head. “No. Better than that.”

Leading her into a room he’s recently had the TARDIS create, he carefully watches Rose’s face for her reaction.

Her mouth drops open as she scans what’s in front of her. “Oh my god, Doctor. It’s beautiful!”

There’s a winding river curving about the room, with lush flora and fruit trees from the planet Zeb surrounding it. He grins, and guides her across a little bridge as she whips her head around to take it all in. Moored up to a rock covered in lilac moss is a gondola. 

“I feel like we’re outside the TARDIS, on some planet - ” She pauses, looking upwards; there’s a projection of stars on the high ceiling, so realistic that it really does feel like they’re outside. “ - god, there’s even a sky! How’d you do it?”

The Doctor shrugs. “It’s the TARDIS, not me.”

“How come you kept this place a secret?” she asks next, poking him lightly in the ribs. 

“I didn’t! She only just dreamt this place up. Come on, get in the boat.”

“What?” Rose laughs.

He rests his hand on her lower back, pushing her gently towards the gondola. “You wanted to talk, so let’s sit in that and talk.”

They climb inside and prop themselves up against the cushions. Rose snuggles in close, resting her head at his shoulder, then lifts it again to remark, “Hold on, don’t you need to steer?”

At her words, he just smiles, and the boat starts moving of its own accord.

She laughs again, and settles against him. “Okay. It’s like a theme park ride or something.”

“More like a lazy river.” Slowly, he lifts his arm, and slides it beneath her neck, hugging her shoulders.

“Tell me about the constellations,” she murmurs, her hand finding his, and he does.

It’s such a comfort, after their difficult couple of days, to just sit with her like this and tell her stories; myths and legends about the stars, and the people who create them. 

The projection is live - somewhere in the universe, there are other couples looking up and seeing these very stars, and the meteor showers that occasionally sweep across, as they lie on the ground of their actual planets, talking about how big the universe is and how small they are in it.

It doesn’t dull the magic of it - that they’re in the TARDIS watching the stars, rather than outside in the open. Doesn’t spoil the romance of it - that he can actually show her these places, if she desires, tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. 

They’re floating in a boat in a room on his ship, heads tilted together and fingers entwined, talking about the universe, and it’s comforting, and intimate, and wonderful.

This, the Doctor knows, could become addictive.

::

ii. Celebration

The Doctor is aware he has a bit of a problem.

There’s this compulsive need he’s acquired where he scoops Rose into a victory hug at the slightest thing warranting celebration.

It’s not that it’s new, exactly, for them. Back when he had that daft old face, all she had to do was pronounce the complicated name of a planet correctly and she’d be in his arms.

It’s not that he cares, exactly, about how undignified it all is, either. He’s thrown his dignity out of the window many times in his long life, most prolifically since he’d become rather…besotted with Rose Tyler. He doesn’t really give a damn about his pride; unless someone’s insulting his intelligence, of course. Or his hair.

The problem is that he’s a tad worried Rose has noticed. 

It’s fair enough, he reasons, to celebrate things like worlds saved, near misses, and being reunited after some time separated, with a good, solid, sometimes rather long friendly embrace.

But this evening, well. Perhaps him hugging her in delight when she made them some popcorn - some perfectly popped, optimally buttery popcorn, mind you - is a little over-zealous. 

She yelps as she nearly drops the bowl of popcorn, because he’s lifted her off her feet, and when he settles her back on the floor, his face heating up as he withdraws his arms from around her and realises what he’s just done, the Doctor struggles to meet her gaze. 

Instead, he takes a handful of popcorn and wanders out of the galley, calling over his shoulder, “Come on then, or I’ll start the film without you.”

He shoves the popcorn his mouth and hears her hurrying after him, so he quickens his pace and pretends he’s not panicking.

“Doctor,” she says, sounding a bit out of breath by the time she’s caught up. “Are you all right?”

Shouldering open the media room door, he nods quickly. “Yep! Tip-top! Fit as a fiddle!” Practically leaping for the sofa, he plonks down right in the middle, legs crossed at the ankle and feet propped up on the coffee table. “What do you want to watch?”

Rose sets the popcorn bowl down and folds her arms, standing in front of the telly so that he can’t avoid her.

“I wanna watch you tell me what’s going on.”

“Hmm?” He tugs on his ear, aware it’s one of his tells but unable to help himself.

A smile quirks her lips. “You haven’t blushed that hard in…” She shakes her head. “As long as I’ve known you.”

“It was hot in the galley.”

“No it wasn’t.” She’s grinning now, evidently feeling powerful. “So what’s up?”

Letting out a groan of frustration, his head flops back on the sofa dramatically and he closes his eyes in embarrassment. “It’s just, I seem to have a bit of an impulse control issue.”

Rose laughs. “What?”

He opens one eye. “Stop laughing.”

She shrugs, all innocence. “Can’t help it, you’re funny.”

Heaving a sigh, he lets slip his problem. “I keep - hugging you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Rose replies, and comes to sit next to him. “What’s wrong with that?”

The Doctor blinks at her silently for a few moments. “Well. Nothing, really.” He squints. “Is there?”

“Believe it or not, I like hugging you, Doctor,” she says, her expression telling him she thinks he needs this explained to him slowly, as though he’s a small child.

“Yes. I mean, that’s good, because we seem to do it an awful lot lately.”

“At the slightest excuse,” she murmurs.

He exhales a long breath, actually relieved he’s not the only one who’s realised that. “Indeed.”

“We’re gonna do it again in about ten minutes, once we’ve finished arguing over what film to watch.”

“Ah.” He nods wisely. “The post-negotiation peace-making hug.”

“You’ve got a name for it,” she says, laughing and sounding surprised.

“Just thought it up.”

Rose arches an eyebrow. “Did you?”

He swallows. “No.”

“Do you have a name for all our hugs?” She sounds happy at the suggestion, so he assumes she’s not creeped out by the idea that he does, indeed, have a categorising brain that requires naming each of their various embraces. He hopes she reacts similarly when she realises he’s done the same for the (admittedly meagre thrice sampling) kisses they’ve shared.

“There’s a…system, of sorts.” He sniffs. “For archiving purposes. Really, Rose, a Time Lord’s brain is very vast; our capacity for memory is without question the most superior in almost every galaxy. It requires a lot of ordering to keep things in their appropriate place.” He taps at his temple for emphasis.

“You don’t have to make excuses,” she grins, her tongue poking out to touch the corner of her mouth.

“I’m not!”

She shuffles closer to him on the sofa and he watches, raising his eyebrows as the distance between their thighs is reduced to exactly zero millimetres. 

“What about this - do you have a name for this?” Rose says, her voice sounding strangely nervous, and he glances back up to her face in confusion. He finds that she’s leaning in, and then her lips are on his and he’s frozen in place, eyes widening, every helpless thought about how much and how long he’s wanted this flying through his head.

She takes his stillness as a lack of appreciation, however, and pulls back, looking mortified.

“No,” he whispers, leaning back towards her.

“Sorry,” she says, her face flushed red. “I - I thought - ”

“No, I mean - ” He shakes his head, and cups her jaw with one hand, guiding her mouth back to his.

Once they’ve established that they are both on the same page where kissing is concerned, they randomly select a film to watch, forgoing their usual bickering, and pay precisely no attention to it whatsoever, much preferring to cuddle up horizontally on the sofa and snog. For the entire film. And its sequel.

There might have also been some different types of kissing, and some different types of touching, but he’ll categorise those later, once he’s got his breath back.

But whatever those things are called, they definitely feel like celebration.

::

iii. Coital

He’s not likely to admit it to anyone out loud, but one of the Doctor’s favourite places in the universe is Rose Tyler’s bed.

It’s where he spends a lot of his nights, now. Not every night - he doesn’t need as much sleep as Rose, so he still tinkers in the console room sometimes, or reads in the library, or organises his tie collection. You know, important Time Lord stuff like that.

But more often than not, he’s in her bed for a few hours at least. In his pyjamas or just his pants, or naked; he isn’t fussy, as long as him and Rose are cosy. 

“I love that you’re a cuddler,” she murmurs one night, as he strokes his fingers across the soft skin just above the waistband of her knickers. 

Lying on his side behind her, his left arm is around her waist, and one of his legs is between hers. She’s not wearing very much and he’s not wearing anything at all, and they spent approximately two and a half hours earlier this evening getting to know one another in all manner of different and new positions.

“That’s hardly news, Rose Tyler,” he replies, flattening his palm against her belly and tugging her even closer. His other arm is under their pillows and Rose’s neck, and one of her hands reaches up to link with his right hand. He’s glad that she seems unable to stop touching him, too.

“S’pose. But just ‘cos you do it all the time outside of bed, doesn’t mean you’d necessarily be into cuddling after sex.”

“Doesn’t it?” He frowns, eyes drifting closed as he sleepily nuzzles at the back of her neck, getting comfy and nudging the hair tickling his nose out of his way. 

She giggles. “Least I know you weren’t just cuddling me to get into my knickers.”

His little finger slips beneath her waistband. “Well.”

Rose laughs again and he presses his lips to her skin, more so that she’ll feel his smile than to kiss her.

“Why’d you put these back on, anyway,” he mumbles. “They’ll only get in the way in the morning.”

“You’re getting cocky,” she teases, and wriggles her bum against him. “Who says that’s gonna happen?”

“Isn’t it?” Even with his eyes still closed and on the verge of falling asleep, he can’t resist. His other fingers sneak into her knickers and she gasps as he strokes her still-sensitive clit. 

“Don’t start something you don’t intend to finish,” she says, grabbing his wrist. He slides two fingers into her where she’s still wet and wanting, and she moans.

“Insatiable,” he mutters, and grins when she groans even louder as he starts to lazily move his fingers.

“You can talk,” she retorts, wiggling her bum against him again, where he’s stirring. He really is too tired to do anything about that, but he intends to make her come once more before sleep takes them and he’s hardly able to prevent himself from reacting to that fact.

“Shhh, concentrate,” he teases, speeding up the motion of his hand, and her fingers tighten their grip on his wrist. “This is a preview of tomorrow morning.”

“Oh is it now?” she laughs, but it’s a breathy laugh that turns into another gasp. It’s such a sexy sound that he can’t help rutting into her lower back a little, which makes him feel like a bit of an animal but she seems to like, so.

“Yes,” he replies after a few moments, “Except I won’t be fucking you with my fingers.”

“Oh god,” Rose groans, her head tilting back. He kisses and sucks at her neck instinctively. “Don’t you want me to…” she murmurs, half-heartedly reaching behind her to stroke his cock.

“No, it’s okay,” he says quietly, and she doesn’t persist, hand returning to his wrist to guide his pace. He doesn’t mind, doesn’t want her to feel like she always has to return the favour. To be honest, he’ll probably come regardless.

It’s a bit awkward, this position, and it’s straining his wrist a little, so he withdraws and tugs the crotch of her knickers aside to go in from that angle instead. Easier to manoeuvre, now, and she hitches her leg up a bit to help him further. Still, he can’t get everywhere she wants at once, so he tells her to rub her clit. Their flair for teamwork has always been one of the best aspects of their relationship.

“Yes. Doctor…” she says, and it comes out sort of a croaky whisper.

He kisses her neck again, then moves his lips up to her ear. “Are you close?”

“God, yes.” She’s panting softly; he’s delighted. “Tell me about tomorrow.”

Mouth relinquishing her earlobe, he says, “I know you like your sleep, Rose, and honestly, we’ll both need some rest after what we’ve been up to tonight, but I don’t think you’d oppose some morning exercise, would you?” She groans out her agreement and he continues, “And I promise we can have a nap, after. In fact, we could probably take some time off from saving the universe and spend all day in bed. What do you say?”

“I reckon that’s the best idea you’ve had in ages,” she gasps out.

“I think so, too.”

“Carry on,” she insists, and he laughs.

“Sorry, not quite got the hang of dirty talk, yet, have I? Let’s see.” He ponders for a moment, listening to the obscene sounds the actions of their hands are making. Her hips are twisting about a little more restlessly than before and he realises he’s slowed down.

“Doctor, please,” she whimpers.

Deciding he wants her next orgasm to creep up on her and simmer, he continues at a more leisurely pace as he speaks. “We seemed to slip into all this quite naturally, didn’t we, so I think it’s reasonable to assume that tomorrow morning, we’ll probably barely say a word in greeting to one another before you’re reaching back to guide me in.”

“Fuck.”

“I like it like this, us all cuddled close; I can feel your every shudder, Rose. Pressed together, skin to skin. It’s slick and sweaty and hot and intimate and you’re intoxicating, I’ll never get enough of this. The way you feel, right now, wriggling and panting in my arms - it’s so good, Rose, and I actually feel rather rude because this was meant to be about you but I can’t help it, I’m absolutely going to come, too.”

She says something then that isn’t really a word in her language but sounds remarkably like the word ‘Guhnggg’ in Alroshanese. He’ll tell her that later, though, because she’s coming and that’s not something he wants to miss by discussing her aptitude for alien linguistics. 

Her hand leaves herself and flies backwards, landing on his bum, squeezing and pulling him closer as she moans through her orgasm. He follows her in moments, the friction of her wriggling against him combined with the arousing picture she makes in general doing him in. 

His fingers slow to a stop, easing her down, and he trails his lips across her shoulder, kissing his favourite freckle and sighing happily.

“Well,” she murmurs, as she catches her breath back. “Dunno about you, but I reckon that’s the sexiest cuddle we’ve ever had.”

He hums his agreement. “Definitely.”

“But also the messiest,” she laughs, and her hand moves from his bum to the small of her back. He predicts with confidence that she is currently raising her eyebrow.

“Ah, yes - sorry about that.” He’s a bit embarrassed, but then, she’s made a mess, too. A less obvious mess, true - but still.

Rose shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t mind. Might need a few tissues or something, though. Too tired to get up.”

“Mmm, same,” he murmurs, and turns briefly to grab whatever he can find in the vicinity to clean them up a bit without having to move. There’s nothing feasible about; all their clothes are scattered too far from the bed, and there are no tissues on her bedside table. He turns back to her. “You’ll have to take these off.” He tugs at her knickers.

“All right,” Rose sighs. “They’re a bit uncomfy anyway, I s’pose.” 

He helps her slide them off, then uses them to wipe at her back. She giggles as he does it. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” she says, and rolls onto her back once he’s done so that she can look at him. She ruffles his hair. “I’m just…glad we got here.”

He tosses her knickers over his shoulder and leans in to kiss her. “Me too.”

Rose’s eyelids start to droop and she yawns, cuddling into his side. “Looking forward to tomorrow, Doctor,” she murmurs, patting his chest.

The Doctor makes a happy noise in his throat and pulls the duvet over them both. “Quite right, too.”

They fall asleep together in seconds.


End file.
